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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364519">today, tomorrow, and as long as i can breathe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyengold/pseuds/hyengold'>hyengold</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a series of fortunate events (my minsung bingo entries!) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Growing Old Together, I'm honestly not sure what this is, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Time Skips, along with a heap of unneeded symbolism, honestly too much smacking happens, i just know it's FLUFFY, minsung opens up a foster home for gay people that's just it, not that kind of smacking. the other kind.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:33:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyengold/pseuds/hyengold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jisung stays silent for a while, absorbing the information. Knowing Minho, whenever he believed in something, he would always take action, in some form or other. “... what are you going to do about it?”</p><p>“I’ve been thinking,” Minho repeats, “that someday, maybe, just maybe, we could try and open some sort of home. For these kind of kids. People who lost their home and their life as they know it simply because they don’t love how society expects them to love. We could try and offer them a new chance at life… at least a place where they know they are accepted and loved no matter what.”</p><p>or: minsung open up a foster home for gay kids, while being extremely domestic about it</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a series of fortunate events (my minsung bingo entries!) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>MINSUNG BINGO: Round One</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>today, tomorrow, and as long as i can breathe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>disclaimer: i have no idea what this is</p><p>it honestly took me a while to get this plot, because the prompts for this were quite unfamiliar, but i'm glad i managed to do it! i don't think i've quite fulfilled what the tropes actually require, but i think it's still okay based on the principle of Independent Artistic Interpretation. or, you know, semantics. in any case, this was done within a record-breaking <i>one night</i>, for which i have to admit is an extremely rare thing, and hence, the plot line in this is pretty much nonexistent, but it's extremely soft content going towards minsung so i have a feeling you'll forgive me</p><p>at any rate, this is another one of my <a href="https://twitter.com/minsungbingo">minsung bingo</a> submissions, and the tropes filled in for this are <b>time skips and growing old together</b>.</p><p>happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s a quiet morning. The sky is clear, the clouds float along pleasantly, a pair of birds fly about in the sky, swooping and looping in the fresh air. The trees along the street rustle softly, as if ringing bells to welcome the new day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amongst all this, a young man with dirty blonde hair mussed from sleep in nothing but a simple T-shirt and sweatpants, yawns as he shuffles into the kitchen of a small apartment, drowsily reaching up into the cupboard to grab a tin of coffee powder. He stares listlessly at the machine as it whirs about, doing its job, awaiting the divine concoction that will once again fill his eyes with life and energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, a pair of arms sneak around his waist, and a warmth buries itself in his neck. A quiet smile slips onto his lips as he tilts his head to bump against the head of the newcomer in lieu of greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you make enough for two?” the taller murmurs into the skin of the other’s neck, sending tiny shivers down his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make your own, lazy,” he replies, just to be cheeky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lover draws back, mock offence written on his face. “See if I order takeout the next time you want me to Han Jisung, you hypocrite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A delightful giggle escapes Han Jisung’s lips. He drags the other into a chaste kiss. “Of course I made enough for two, Minho-hyung. I’ve gotten used to having another person in the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> house,” Minho corrects, gently drawing Jisung into his side. “Also, ew. You have morning breath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung smacks Minho’s chest, although it has no force. “Like you’re one to talk. I could still taste last night’s leftovers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coffee machine halts in its work, effectively cutting short their banter. As Jisung moves to pour the beverage out, Minho gets to work whipping up a modest breakfast. All is peaceful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I honestly can’t believe we’re actually living together,” Jisung comments offhandedly, once they’ve settled down at the table. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream and that I’ll wake up tomorrow and not find you beside me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho absentmindedly hums as he takes a gratuitous sip of his coffee. “I’ll be here today, tomorrow, and as long as I can breathe, Sung. Never doubt that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the casualness of the tone with which it is said, the statement is enough to set a joyful smile on Jisung’s face.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You know, Sung,” Minho pipes up as they settle in for the night, two weeks later. “I’ve been thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A miracle indeed,” Jisung snorts, and scrambles back to avoid a wayward smack. “About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that high school dance workshop that I’m teaching right now, right?” Jisung hums an affirmation. “There’s a girl there, I caught her kissing another girl after class. She was so scared when she saw me and… that fear in her eyes. When she thought I would punish her, or tell her parents, and have them kick her out.” Minho exhales heavily, heart burdened. “It was awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung stays silent for a while, absorbing the information. Knowing Minho, whenever he believed in something, he would always take action, in some form or other. “... what are you going to do about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking,” Minho repeats, “that someday, maybe, just maybe, we could try and open some sort of home. For these kind of kids. People who lost their home and their life as they know it simply because they don’t love how society expects them to love. We could try and offer them a new chance at life… at least a place where they know they are accepted and loved no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With each word Minho says, Jisung feels his heart warm even more with affection for the man before him. What had he done in his past life to deserve such an angel by his side? He softly strokes Minho’s hair, the older’s head resting on his chest. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, hyung,” he breathes out delightfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nuzzles further into Jisung’s comforting fingers. “I know,” he murmurs. “But there’s also practicality to think about. How would we do it? How can we open a home for others when we can barely make enough to support ourselves? And how would we get word out without the entire community storming here to shut us down and burn us at the stake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true,” Jisung admits. “It would be very difficult to make it real. But I know you won’t stand for standing by and watching others suffer.” He plants a soft kiss onto the brunette’s head. “Tell you what; why don’t we sleep on it, and see what tomorrow brings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho releases a final sigh. “Okay. I think I can do that.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Jisung startles as his phone starts to buzz in his pocket. Pulling his headphones from his ears, he picks his phone up and instantly answers when he sees the contact name. “Hyung, I was in the middle of a track-” he complains into the microphone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you were? I’m sorry,” Minho replies sincerely. “I just called to tell you that I invited my colleague Felix over to our apartment for dinner. You know, the one you met at the studio dinner? Freckles, really damaged hair, born one day after you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, that one, I remember,” Jisung cuts in. “But hold on, our house? Where you and I, two guys, live together? Won’t that appear a little suspicious-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sung, you know I would never invite anyone to our house without trusting them,” Minho says reassuringly. “He’s from Australia, they’re a lot more understanding there. He’s openly expressed sympathy for people like us, in fact I kind of suspect he could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> too. Besides, he’s really fun and he’s been so nice to me, I kind of want to do something in return for him. Our studio’s upcoming anniversary is a good excuse to repay him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand.” Jisung thinks back to the number of small gifts Minho has brought home, courtesy of a considerate and thoughtful Felix. Minho once even joked that Felix could have been hitting on him, had he not been doing the same sweet gestures for everyone else in the studio. “When will he come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a week’s time.” There’s the sound of a door closing from Minho’s side. “What time will you be home? I don’t want you to stay up too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung glances at the remainder of the track, sitting sadly on his screen. “I’m not sure, hyung,” he admits. “It could take me a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to see you home too late, Sungie,” Minho says. “It’s okay if you can’t finish it by tonight. There’s always tomorrow, when you have a refreshed mind and body. Come home soon, darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung feels heat flush on his face. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can’t stand your nicknames-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho only laughs. “See you later, baby,” he says teasingly, before hanging up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>asshole</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jisung huffs to himself, but twenty minutes later, he’s hitting save and packing up for the night, eager to get home.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The door creaks open. Jisung timidly peers in. “You wanted to see me, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A broad-shouldered man with blond hair that almost looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>fried</span>
  </em>
  <span> looks up from his laptop. When his eyes land on the orange-haired man, he nods, a courteous smile slipping onto his face. “Yes, yes, come in, have a seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shakily, Jisung enters, fingers fiddling. He nearly yanks the chair over in the midst of his nerves, and when he sits down, he’s as stiff as a mannequin. His eyes fixate themselves on the plaque in front of him, that reads ‘Bang Chan, company head’, before he realises it’s probably impolite and forces his eyes to jerkily dart to meet Bang Chan’s own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gentle chuckle sounds throughout the room. “Relax, this isn’t anything bad. I just wanted to have a little chat.” Jisung doesn’t untense. “Sorry, that’s probably not the best thing to say. I just…” Chan runs his hand through his hair, trying to find the right words to approach the subject. “Do you know anyone named Felix?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung perks up. “Felix? He’s a dancer, right? With freckles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan nods. “Yeah! That’s him. He, um. We’re cousins, so we keep in touch, and uh, he actually told me…” His voice trails off once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s heart catches in his throat. He can already guess what Chan may be hinting at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard that you and your housemate have this ambition of yours… to help people who don’t exactly fit in with the community.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s this close to hyperventilating. Pure anxiety pumps through his veins. “Y-yes,” he stammers out. “Let me reassure you, it’s- it’s really just a dream, nothing much-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no, I didn't call you here to fire you or anything! I promise, this isn’t a punishment in any way.” A sheepish grin sneaks onto his face. “I’m so sorry, this is supposed to be the exact opposite.” He sets his hands face down on the table, shoulder-width apart. “Actually, I want to help.” His smile turns wistful. “There was someone I knew, once. I wasn’t brave enough to help him back then, and to this day, I wonder if I could have done something more, something better, to save him before it was too late. What you and your partner are doing… this is my chance to make things right again.” He turns to look Jisung in the eye. “I want to make you a promise: whenever you feel ready to make this dream a reality, I will help fund the home, and every person that steps through those doors. I want to be more than I used to be, and finally do the right thing. That is-” he rubs his hands together uncertainly, “- if you’ll agree to it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s jaw drops agape. He feels hot tears rushing to his eyes, a tingling in his nose, but what he feels in his heart is </span>
  <em>
    <span>jubilation</span>
  </em>
  <span>, pure, unbridled </span>
  <em>
    <span>jubilation</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Oh my god,” he mutters. “This- this can’t be real, I must be dreaming-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan grins. “You aren’t dreaming, Jisung-ssi. This is real. I’m happy to help you in any way I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tears start to spill from Jisung’s eyes. Hastily, Jisung rubs them away, but they keep coming, urged on by the sheer amount of </span>
  <em>
    <span>emotion</span>
  </em>
  <span> his body is unable to contain within his small frame. Chan graciously offers a tissue. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, thank you so much, I- I can’t say how much this means to me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only a tissue, Jisung-ssi,” Chan replies, but there’s a gleam of happiness in his eyes as he brings his employee in for a warm embrace. Once Jisung’s calmed down to a point of heavy gulps of air, Chan speaks again. “I would like to meet you and your partner, Jisung-ssi. We have a lot of things to discuss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung dabs at his nose. “Of- of course, we’d be honoured- when?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The joy in Chan’s eyes seem almost like a permanent fixture. “How does tomorrow sound?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s a quiet morning. The sky is clear, the clouds float along pleasantly, a pair of birds fly about in the sky, swooping and looping in the fresh air. The trees along the street rustle softly, as if ringing bells to welcome the new day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amongst all this, someone with faded blue hair and eyes wide awake and alert knocks softly on a door, then silently counts to three. He opens the door. “Good morning, sleepyheads,” he calls gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A groan emits from the top of the bunk bed situated in the corner of the room.</span>
</p><p><span>With a sigh, the blue-haired man fishes out his phone from his pocket, and types something in. With no warning, the opening notes to a cheery upbeat song echo </span><em><span>very</span></em> <em><span>loudly</span></em><span> through the room. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Gah!” the person on the bottom bunk sits up so quickly she hits her head. The girl above her just groans again, grabs her pillow and stuffs it over her head in a fruitless effort to block the music out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on!” the man laughs, dancing all the moves to the song impeccably. “Rise and shine! It's the third weekend of the month, and you know what that means!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A very impolite finger appears from the upper level. “Screw you, Minho-oppa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, now, Jisungie will be very jealous to hear that,” Minho teases. “Besides, we all know that you’d very much rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> screw me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut. Up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In another room, Jisung shakes awake another sleepy-eyed boy. “It’s your own fault for choosing to sleep so late knowing today is Activity Day,” he says firmly. “Now go wash your face, and I’ll go make some tea for you. Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grumble, the boy gets off his bed, and waddles sleepily to the boy’s bathroom, where several other, equally sleepy boys are waiting outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later, Minho’s flipping pancakes for a small line of slightly more awake youths. Jisung enters the room and gives Minho a chaste peck on the lips. A chorus of disgusted noises erupt in the large living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho mock-scowls at the youths. "You </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish</span>
  </em>
  <span> you had as much game as I do." As Jisung walks past Minho grabs his ass, causing him to jump and smack Minho's arm very harshly, red spreading on his face. Various exclamations of revolt and wolf whistles sound from the spectators. Minho just turns back to his pancakes, a satisfied grin on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anyways," Jisung begins, throwing Minho a dirty look, "today's Activity Day will be different! We have a special guest, who should be here any minute-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is it Uncle Chan?" a girl with rebellious turquoise hair pipes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>chortles</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and adds two pancakes to her plate. "I'm giving you extra </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> for that. Wait 'til Chan hears he's graduated to </span>
  <em>
    <span>uncle</span>
  </em>
  <span> standards." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who's graduated to uncle standards?" a new voice says. Muted shouts of excitement meet his wide grin as he shuts the door behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yemin over here just called you Uncle Chan," Minho traitorously informs the benefactor of the house they're in. Yemin stares at Minho with utter betrayal in her eyes. "Congratulations, you're old." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, it's not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're</span>
  </em>
  <span> so young either, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uncle Minho</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Yemin retorts. A bunch of </span>
  <em>
    <span>ooh</span>
  </em>
  <span>s sound from the crowd, clearly invested in the early morning drama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho scowls, and uses his tongs to pluck one of Yemin's pancakes. "And for that, I'm taking your extra pancake away. Think about what you've done." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will, with great pride," Yemin sniffs, and walks off to join her peers at the communal eating area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung joins her. "Don't mind him, he gets grumpy in the morning," he murmurs to her. "You know how old people are." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Han Jisung</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Minho's voice says through the soft clamour, a clear warning in his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung just giggles and gives Yemin a high five. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the youths have all settled down with breakfast on their plates, enraptured by Chan, who is very dramatically recounting Jisung's top five embarrassing moments in his producing company, Jisung sidles alongside Minho, who's quietly munching his breakfast, scrolling through his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Contently, Jisung gazes out at the scene in front of him, and rests his head against Minho's shoulder. "I can't believe we've actually done it," he utters. "We've made it. A home for people who don't have a home. A place where love can be freely expressed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho buries his nose into Jisung's brown hair. "Me either. I'm so glad I have you, Jisungie." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung says nothing, only tilts his head up and lets their lips meet in a long, loving kiss. As they separate, his nose wrinkles. "Ew. Coffee breath." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ew, tea breath," Minho retorts, but intertwines their hands together on the table. Laughter rings throughout as Chan moves on to the top </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten</span>
  </em>
  <span> embarrassing moments of Felix, another frequent visitor of the home. Minho leans his head against Jisung's. "I love you, today, tomorrow, and as long as I can breathe, Jisungie," he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung moves his head away, only to bump noses affectionately with Minho. "I know. I love you too. Today, tomorrow, and as long as I can breathe."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm minsung trash wbk</p><p>at any rate, i wrote this at like 12am in the morning so pardon me for any mistakes i may have missed out, especially any terminology that i may have used wrongly, if so please don't hesitate to let me know!! :") this is the last week i have before school reopens for me, and while i'm VERY excited to be able to have social interaction, it also means school will once again take out a huge chunk of my time, and i won't be as productive as i have been throughout this time without school. but still. SOCIAL INTERACTION.</p><p>stay safe, remember to wash your hands, and STAN STRAY KIDS</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://twitter.com/straycelestials">here's my twitter!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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